6 Years in the Life
by The Child of Time
Summary: "He was the one who got away before they even knew each other's names, but he wasn't going to get away this time." One snippet from each year of Mimi's life, ages 17-22. Roger/Mimi.
1. 17

**Disclaimer: Zoom in on my empty wallet. **

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><p>She was 17. As she swung around the pole she was handcuffed to, one man caught her eye: the blonde one who lived upstairs. She didn't remember his name, but she remembered him helping her move in and his roommate scolding him about disappearing the night before and just now getting back at 2 PM. The blonde guy and the guy with the glasses had helped her carry all of her cheap furniture into her new apartment and then they went upstairs, Glasses bickering with and mothering Blondie.<p>

Honestly, from that first impression, she thought they were gay. Blondie had the weirdest bleaching job she had ever seen and Glasses was wearing a scarf in May and they were _living together. _In her opinion, it wasn't _wrong_ to be gay; it was just a waste in the case of Blondie. Then again, she had already learned that the best ones are jerks, gay, or taken. It appeared that Blondie was the latter two.

Then again, if he was gay and taken, what the hell was he doing _here_, at the club? Mimi had never claimed to be intelligent; in fact, she had spent her entire life hearing the exact opposite from her father, teachers, and peers. But she knew that gay men did not go to S&M clubs, and Glasses was nowhere to be seen. Maybe Blondie was just experimenting and now he was done!

He was hot as hell; she wasn't ashamed to admit how readily she'd tap that. He was definitely better than the rest of the disgusting perverts here. _It's a living_, she repeated to herself. It was the closest to real dancing that she could get right now and she needed a job. It's not like she was going to become like those other girls. She was young and full of potential and she'd get there….eventually.

And then her trail of happy thoughts was interrupted by the feeling of a whip hitting her back and the sight of a redhead running up to Blondie. She gritted her teeth. Rosa _knew_ you weren't supposed to hit that hard; it's not like she was new to this. That one had definitely drawn blood that Mimi would now have to clean up and possibly cover up with an outfit change during her break.

The redhead looked pretty pissed. She was swatting at Blondie's arm, but he ignored her for a good two minutes as he focused on the stage. The redhead, who Mimi noticed had a rather horse-ish looking face, started tugging on Blondie's arm until Blondie gave in to Horse Face and they left together. Mimi rolled her eyes and went back to her dancing.

So he had a girlfriend. That was much easier to fix than him having a boyfriend. She was hotter than Horse Face, for sure. She'd just have to eventually sneak her way in. That was totally doable. Blondie better be ready for Mimi Marquez. Because once you experience the best ass below Fourteenth Street, there is no way you'll ever go back.

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><p>Reviews make me happy, reviews make me happy, reviews make me HAPPY! All year long!<p> 


	2. 18

**_Guys, I can't even afford tickets to see the Rent Revival. I definitely don't own it. _**

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><p>She was 18. A lot can change in a year. You get a lot wiser about the way the real world works. It turned out that New York City was not the dream escape she had hoped it to be. It was better than her mama's house and her mama's boyfriends, but it was no fairy land. Since her arrival, she had dropped to 90 pounds, which the other girls assured her was normal, healthy, and expected of dancers.<p>

Yeah, that dream job of dancing hadn't come yet either. Gradually, she befriended her fellow dancers who stopped mocking her about being the baby and started trying to teach her how to survive in the city that was hell one moment and heaven the next. Apparently, you had to be using _something_ in order to cope with the stress of bills and dancing.

Rosa, who had stopped being so cruel to Mimi, insisted that if you used smack, you would loosen up enough to go into what she called "the other business". The other girls quickly agreed that smack was the best of the best and would leave her feeling fantastic. They even offered to each chip in a little for her first purchase and directed her to The Man, who supposedly sold "the good stuff" at the cheapest price.

"Of course it's safe, Meems," they reassured her, "We've been doing this for years!"

And that was how she found herself with money in her pocket, eyes glued to the pavement, following the directions that were given to her. She was so tired that she was barely paying attention to her surroundings, which would be why she bumped into him. Blondie.

Her neck snapped up, amazed to see him here. Despite living in the same building, they hadn't had much contact other than her becoming annoyed with the noise of them having sex, and bashing her broom into the ceiling in the hopes of quieting them down. She felt bad for Glasses, if he was even still living there.

Speaking of the devil, Horse Face was right there beside Blondie, holding his hand and squeezing it tightly.

"I need to get there this _year_," she hissed, and he nodded in understanding before addressing Mimi.

"Sorry 'bout that."

She shook her head, "No, my fault. I wasn't paying attention."

It became obvious to her about five awkward moments later that the three of them were headed to the same place. Suddenly, she felt self-conscious, since she only had a vague idea of what the hell she was even doing. Sure, she drank and smoked (cigarettes and pot) regularly, but this was different. This was more mature, and they apparently knew what they were doing while she was once again the baby.

None of the descriptions the girls gave her properly prepared Mimi for The Man. It wasn't like he looked like a monster, but there was this frightening feeling she got the closer she came to him, like he could grab her arm and snap it in half of a second. His voice came out smooth and sugary as syrup when he addressed Blondie and Horse Face, though.

"Strawberry? Loverboy? It's been awhile. I was starting to get worried."

Blondie rolled his eyes. "No, you weren't. Just give us our damn drugs."

The Man shook his head. "Now, now, now, I don't like that kind of attitude, Loverboy. You're gonna have to be more polite. You know not to bite the hand that feeds you. Do you actually have money this time, or are one of you going to be doing me a favor?"

Disgusted, Blondie threw several bills into The Man's outstretched hand.

"What a shame," The Man sighed as he passed over the tiny bags of white powder, "You're _really_ good with your—" He stopped talking when he noticed Mimi's presence. A grin replaced the smirky expression he had before.

"Hello, cutie pie. Are you lost?"

Mimi swallowed and cleared her throat, determined not to sound like a teenage girl. "No. How much is smack?"

For a split second, she could have sworn she saw true sadness in his eyes as he said "They just come younger and younger," but then the moment was over. The price was named, the money paid and the baggie received.

And that was when she stole her first glance at Horse Face and Blondie to see what they were doing. _Oh._ Tourniquets and syringes and _god,_ how had she not thought to bring those? She watched them for a moment to observe how they were doing this, because after how much money she spent, Mimi was _not_ going to fuck this up.

But, apparently, Horse Face had noticed the glancing and watching. She stumbled over with her tourniquet and syringe in hand and plopped herself down next to Mimi.

"You're new to this aren't you?" she slurred out calmly, "First time?"

Mimi nodded, feeling herself blush.

"Don't worry, we're all new at some point." Horse Face nodded several times, seeming to make herself dizzy. Then she tied the tourniquet tightly around Mimi's arm. She shook her head, then explained, "No, wait. You gotta do the melting, okay, I'll fuck it up."

Once again, Mimi nodded, accepting the spoon and lighter from Horse Face. After Horse Face's half-help getting the melted heroin from the spoon to the syringe, the tourniquet was replaced on Mimi's arm. Extremely tightly. Damn, high people did not lose their strength apparently.

Horse Face hummed as she tried to find a vein that was good enough for her liking. It started to drizzle outside. The Man was gone, onto another alley of desperate people. Blondie lazily muttered at Horse Face to "Knock it off", "Be careful," or "Don't be stupid" every few minutes from the other side of the alley.

Finally, Horse Face found an acceptable vein and inserted the needle into it. What followed was unlike anything Mimi had ever experienced.

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><p><strong>Still love reviews just as much as I did last chapter. In case you were wondering. <strong>


	3. 19

**Yeah. Still broke. Damn.**

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><p>She was 19. There were a few things that the girls had not explained properly at all. Yes, Mimi's heroin use had calmed her down significantly and allowed her to think nothing of picking up prostitution as a means to pay for the heroin and enough food to stay in her 85-95 pound range. But they didn't tell her how addicting it would become. And they certainly didn't tell her about how it could kill you.<p>

Three months after Horse Face had first helped Mimi use heroin, Rosa collapsed at work, right on the stage, and was taken to the hospital. There were big medical terms used by the doctors and nurses as they sadly shook their heads at the group of dancers, but their manager summed it up in one word: AIDS.

The week after Rosa died, every dancer at the club was forced to go to the clinic to get tested. The week after Rosa died, Mimi learned that she wasn't so young and full of opportunities, after all. Her life had just become shortened drastically and she toted around the title HIV positive to go along with slut, skank, stripper, and whore.

But it didn't stop the heroin use. What was the point in stopping now? She was already going to die. Angel pleaded with her to stop and tried to point out the benefits. She begged for Mimi to come to Life Support regularly, instead of on a bi-weekly or monthly basis. But Angel was….Angel. She was always positive in the good sense of the word. She didn't deserve the HIV or AIDS like Mimi did. No. The fact that Angel was sick was proof enough for Mimi that there was no god.

So, while Angel was at Life Support, no doubt making the entire group smile for the first time that week, Mimi was trying to get her damn matches to work. They had fallen into the snow earlier that week and it was taking two or three to light her fucking candle. Only, tonight she was down to three. None of which worked.

Twitching half from impatience and half from withdrawal, she blinked back tears at how pathetic this whole situation was. Okay, it wasn't the end of the world, _someone_ in the building had to have-

The power went out. Well, that was no reason to panic, it just added to the validity of her only need being a lighted candle. After all, she was cold and needed to be able to see. Obviously, someone would have working matches.

Mimi shakily stood up and exited her apartment, cautiously making her way up the stairs with her candle. She politely knocked on the door and was taken aback by the gruff "What'd you forget?" that she got in response.

Blondie. Again.

"Got a light?" she asked seductively as she tried to make her swaying steps look sexy and not weak.

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><p><strong>Would you leave me a reviiiiiew? <strong>


	4. 20

**No. Comment. **

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><p>She was 20. And she was completely alone. She knew they were out there and for the longest time she didn't even want to be found, but tonight…tonight she was praying to Angel, her version of god, that she'd be found somehow.<p>

Something was off. She had this sense of foreboding and a terrible falling sensation in the pit of her stomach as she realized she was sicker than she thought. She was going to die. Tonight. And, really, all Mimi wanted was to be at the loft and sneak into Roger's room…collapse into his bed….take any possessions he had left behind and just burry herself in them. But, no, that wasn't going to happen. Mimi Marquez was going to die on a park bench and no one who used to know her or care about her would never know. She tightened her shaking body into a slightly smaller ball and allowed herself the sobbing she had been holding back for hours.

Her sobbing blocked out Maureen and Joanne's voices until they were right in front of her, scooping her tiny body up, and asking a million questions. She couldn't process any of them. Everything was spinning and breathing was becoming difficult.

"The loft." She mumbled a few times, hoping they would understand her only request. And then she closed her eyes and slept.

When she woke up again, it wasn't because of the jostling around that was happening to her with the exchange of who was holding her body. It was his voice.

"Oh, god" and she was awake, eyes widened, amazed at his presence. Not happy with the level of his concern or his frown or the tears hiding in his eyes, but overjoyed to see him, nonetheless.

"Got a light?" she forced out, barely aware of the words leaving her mouth. But some part of her blurred and swimming brain just wanted him to smile again. "I know you, you're shivering."

They were all around her, saying words that she couldn't comprehend, Roger frantically saying something…no, why wasn't he smiling?

Maureen….doctor….no….that'd be a waste of money.

Then he was holding her hand and demanding that someone find a candle and he was _there_.

Roger. She had so much to explain to him before she died. There was so much he had to know.

"I should tell you….."

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><p><strong>Give me some review love while you still love me? *hides behind computer* <strong>


	5. 21

**I apologize ahead of time and will accept all objects thrown at me. **

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><p>She was 21. She sensed it was her last year. If you had asked anyone a year ago, they would have told you that she was going to be the one to die first and that she would do so in Roger's arms. That they were inseparable.<p>

Only, they weren't. There were still fights, and screaming and crying, and six months later she was back in her apartment. Alone. But still in love and spending hours watching through windows as the blonde girl started spending more and more time in the loft with Roger and Mark. As they went to dinner together. As she heard laughter late at night, and tried to keep her crying down so they couldn't hear her too.

Then came the week of coughing. Loud, wheezing coughing that she could hear from her apartment. It didn't stop and she cringed and winced and cried as she wondered how he was getting any air into his lungs with that much coughing. If she sneaked to the fire escape at night, she could watch him make runs to the bathroom to vomit. And then on Thursday, it was Mark doing the running back and forth with a bucket, ever the best friend.

On Saturday, the ambulance came. Thoughts whirled through her mind as Mark rode with him and Goldie took her car to meet them there. All of the big medical words with Rosa, all of the days spent painting Angel's nails in the hospital room and reading magazines to her, then going home to cry. Everything. She didn't have a car. But she had her feet.

So, Mimi walked the entire way to the hospital and flirted her way through enough male nurses to get Roger's room number. But that was where her journey ended. She wasn't next of kin, like Goldie apparently was, or his health care proxy, like Mark. She was…nothing. Mimi spent three days with her face pressed against the tiny glass window in the door, pleading for access, but being denied by doctors.

One time, Mark let her sneak in while Roger was sleeping and there was no one there. But as soon as he opened his eyes and sent her a confused look, she was rushed out before the doctors found out about her presence. The next day during her window watching, she was pushed aside by a frustrated looking doctor and sad looking nurse leaving the room. Mimi resumed her position just in time to see Goldie and Mark both collapsing into heaving sobs and she knew. She _knew_.

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><p><strong>Wanna rant at me? Like...in a review? <strong>


	6. 22

**Again, all I can say is...I'm sorry...I love them, I swear. **

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><p>She was 22 as of an hour ago. Apparently her senses about her approaching death were vastly off. Or the universe just wanted to punish her for all of the wrong she had done during her lifetime. But, this time, there would be no Angel to save her from the sickness. She had stopped taking her medicines ages ago. When she became sick enough to worry Mark, she refused the hospital, very seriously informing him that she would die on Roger's grave. Mark wasn't as patient as he used to be; they fought, he snapped, and he stopped speaking to her.<p>

Mimi kind of felt sorry for him, because she knew he would visit Roger and be the one to find her. Poor Mark. Put through so much shit by his friends. He was the one that had to take care of them, the one that would be around to deal with their messes after they were gone. God, she had more respect for him with every single thing that went wrong.

But as sorry as she was, Mimi was determined. She would not die in an uncomfortable bed, hooked up to tubes and monitors and surrounded by the hospital smell and ugly white walls. She would die on soft grass, curled up next to him, just like it was supposed to be. He was the one who got away before they even knew each other's names, but he wasn't going to get away this time. She had a distinct advantage.

She curled herself up comfortably in front of the slab of stone and traced his name, slower each time as her breathing became more and more shallow. And then she closed her eyes and fell asleep next to him. A storybook ending, really. They beat "til death do us part". They were together.

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><p><strong>And that's the end. Thoughts? <strong>


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